The Food of Love
by Deja Know I Been Lookin For Vu
Summary: Mr. Collins tries his hand at love poetry.


**Rating:**** No violence, no language.**

**Author's Notes:**** Thanks to Jann for looking over this for me!**

**Characters:**** Collins, Elizabeth, Mr. Bennet, Jane, Lydia**

* * *

Mr. Collins actually found the coquetry of Elizabeth Bennet to be charming. He understood it was the custom of delicate female temperaments to pretend disinterestedness toward prospective suitors, and he certainly should have expected no less from the love of his life.

So when he saw that his suit was not being received with warmth, he determined he would press harder to succeed with his cause. The problem was that he, being of an intellectual and religious sort, had read very few books detailing the vigors of romantic courtship. He resolved that the first step to remedy this lack was to find one such book to direct him on the proper method to conduct the wooing of a worthy young female.

Upon asking his young cousin Lydia to supply him with instructive material, she gave him a very sweet smile and put a book in his hands, after which she went prancing off with a rather loud giggle.

He instantly sat down with the volume, reading page after page with growing eagerness. Eventually, however, he came upon a scandalous passage—two unmarried young people were _kissing_! Heavens! What could be the reason for it?—and he was forced to close the book, his cheeks red, and the back of his neck feeling oddly moist.

This novel would not do to instruct him! Certainly not. He needed to find another method to please Miss Elizabeth's vanity.

And so he asked Mr. Bennet what method was best used to woo one of his worthy daughters.

"Poetry," said Mr. Bennet with a smile as he placed a book in Mr. Collins's, "is oft called the food of love. I suspect many a foolish female heart has been taken in by the ill-disguised lines of a Shakespearean sonnet that has been turned for the purpose of making it apply more specifically to the desired lady. You must make sure any such recital is loud enough to be heard, and gesticulations of every sort are always welcome. The more exaggerated, the better, I should say."

Mr. Collins began to make the supreme depths of his gratitude known, but he was waved out of Mr. Bennet's bookroom before he was finished. Yet he was far too excited about this new tactic to linger in any case.

When he sat down at a small table to write, however, he found it was difficult to begin. He had never practiced his hand at writing metered poetry before, and he was at a loss as to what to say first. "Glorious Elizabeth" would not work, as it seemed almost profane for an esteemed clergyman such as himself to write those words. He thought about writing of the benefit of their union, yet he was not certain how he could fit all those words into a sonnet, which he thought tended to be rather short.

At last, however, he opened the book of Shakespeare's sonnets provided by Mr. Bennet, and he put pen to paper, copying Shakespeare's style as best as he could.

And lo! What wondrous words flowed from his pen! Why, he almost wished he had been a poet, for surely not even Shakespeare was able to produce such a marvel as this! His cousin Elizabeth was certain to be pleased, her vanity and her good sense both swayed by the evidence of his good esteem of her!

He found his cousin Elizabeth walking in the garden with her sister Jane—for some reason, the love of his life had grown rather difficult to find lately—and he immediately requested that she sit down on a nearby bench.

"I should like to continue my walk with my sister, Mr. Collins," said Elizabeth, looking somewhat puzzled. "I am not certain why you would require me to be seated."

"There are words that I must speak to you, dear cousin," said Collins, seeing the look—which must have been one of pleasure!—that Elizabeth gave to Jane. "I have been hard at work to win your approval, and I would like to be beside you on bended knee!"

"Perhaps Jane may sit with me," said Elizabeth quickly. "I think our walk has fatigued her greatly!"

"But my dear cousin, I require only a few moments of your time . . . and lovers' words are meant to confined to the privacy of only the lovers' ears."

"Mr. Collins, I hardly think we could be qualified as—"

"Miss Bennet, I know what you are going to say!" interrupted Mr. Collins. "I know my fair love desires to protest the truth of my feelings and to turn her head away. Yet I have something that must be said, and I must have you listen to me, or my heart shall burst!"

"Well," murmured Elizabeth with a sigh, "I suppose we cannot have that. We might as well have done."

"I shall be back in a few minutes, Lizzy," said Jane, touching her sister's arm.

Elizabeth nodded and watched her sister go; then she turned to Mr. Collins with a raised eyebrow.

He grabbed her hand and ushered her to the bench to be seated. She pulled her hand away from his quickly, and he realized his palm was sweating. He apologized to her for it, explaining: "It is merely the physical manifestation of the magnitude of my feelings."

She nodded, not commenting, and then she tilted her head and looked at him expectantly.

"Oh!" cried he. "You are such a vision of loveliness, my dear cousin! I am certain Lady Catherine could find nothing wanting when examining you—your form is so pleasing to the eye, though I am sorry to say I have not seen as many pretty ladies to make the judgment as perhaps I ought, and your intellect is just the very thing to bring illumination and understanding to the words of Fordyce and the biblical texts which must be focused on by any parson's wife!"

"I am certain you flatter me, Mr. Collins."

"And that is what I wish to do! Women do so love to receive such delicate compliments as may be expounded by their suitors, and I am no less the lover than any other young man hoping to woo a young lady. But I have brought you here for a specific purpose." And here, he dropped to his knees and took the paper containing his words of love out of a pocket. After unfolding it, he grabbed her hand with one of his. "I have composed a poem for you, and I cannot help but smile at the thought that you are the first to hear such true and unabashed words slipping from my lips."

"A . . . poem, Mr. Collins?"

"I see you are surprised, my dear cousin. Yes, the greatness of my love knows no bounds, and I have written such a poem as would make Shakespeare himself bow down before me, if you would please pardon me for so saying. I had never particularly seen myself as a skilled sonnet writer, but I have outdone myself in every way. Would you like to hear it?"

There was a pause, and then Elizabeth said: "I suppose you wanted me here so you could read it to me?"

"Indeed!" cried Collins. "I shall unveil my gift now, and I am certain we shall speak of this moment to our children fondly in years to come. And now, with an eye to the great animation that will express my love for you, I begin:

"_My esteemed patroness's eyes are as resplendent as the sun_ (here, he lifted his eyes to the sky),  
_And I may without fear of being accused of exaggeration say that apples are not as red as her lips are red _(he puckered his lips up for emphasis)_.  
The snowy whiteness of her neck is nothing like your own dun _(rather than touch Elizabeth's neck, he tilted his head to reveal his own)_,  
And if hairs were to be considered wires, why, there must be dark wires growing on your head_ (he took his hand away from hers to pull at a strand of his own hair)_.  
And I must own—for who could not?—that there are wondrous roses, red and white,  
To be found in her ladyship's noble cheeks_ (he patted his cheek fondly)_.  
And certainly in some perfumes can more delight be found  
Than in the breath that from your mouth reeks_ (he feigned he was recoiling from his cousin's face)_.  
I love to hear my patroness speak, and I also know  
That music could never have such a pleasing sound_ (a smile stretched the corners of his mouth)_.  
I never saw quite such an angel of knowledge and goodness go  
As she, my lady, who scarcely treads the ground _(he began flapping his arms much like a bird before bringing the paper back to his face once more to read)_.  
Yet my love for you, Miss Elizabeth, is quite rare,  
And I think the inestimable future of our love is beyond compare._"

Clapping his hand over his heart, he flung himself to the ground, acting as one who has been stricken down by greatness. And then he lay still, panting heavily, fatigued from his exertions.

"Jane!" cried Elizabeth, standing in a panic. "I think there is something wrong with Mr. Collins!"

"If there be anything wrong, it is only the utter strength of my love for you!" proclaimed he, slowly sitting up. "You cannot deny that the force of our affection is so great as to work miracles!"

By this time, Jane, who had not been very far away, had come rushing up to them. "Mr. Collins!" exclaimed she. "Are you ill? Why are you on the ground?"

"Is it not a lover's prerogative to kiss the dirt at his beloved's feet? If only her ladyship were here to instruct me on the proper behavior for one who has fallen so hard as I! Lady Catherine is all that is good and helpful! Surely I have been robbed of the most useful and noble advice by the lack of her presence here to guide me! Oh, her gracious condescension is surely too much for a mere clergyman such as I to bear!"

He continued in the throes of this passion, pounding his fists on the ground and then gesticulating at the air, and at some point both his cousins left him there. Yet his feelings were inflamed, and he cared not for their departure. He should have been a poet! He knew it now! He had a lover's heart!

This fire burned in him all throughout the day and night, and when he proposed marriage to his cousin Elizabeth and was rejected forthwith by her—and discouraged from his pursuit later by her father—he scarcely felt the loss. His dreams were too large for him to be upset by the scorn of a prospective lover. He was imagining instead the faithful audience of his parishioners, listening every Sabbath to the marvelous poems he was able to construct for their eager ears to hear! Oh, how the people of his church would be the envy of the countryside! Every week, listening to the lyrical strains of his poetry—why, they would all be in raptures at their good fortune!

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Thank you for reading! I would like to put a plug in here for my newly published book, _Waiting for an Echo: Words in the Darkness_, which was co-authored with Jann Rowland. You can find it on Amazon, and it features Austen's beloved P&P characters (including Collins and Elizabeth, of course). For more details, please visit our blog at rowlandandeye (dott) com. We really appreciate your support!


End file.
